Schindler's List Page #4

SCHINDLER:

Simple engineering, though, wouldn't

you think? Change the machines around,

whatever you do, you could make other

things, couldn't you?

Schindler lowers his voice as if there could possibly be

someone else listening in somewhere.

SCHINDLER:

Field kits, mess kits...

He waits for a reaction, and misinterprets Stern's silence

for a lack of understanding.

SCHINDLER:

Army contracts.

But Stern does understand. He understands too well.

Schindler grins good-naturedly.

SCHINDLER:

Once the war ends, forget it, but

for now it's great, you could make a

fortune. Don't you think?

STERN:

(with an edge)

I think most people right now have

other priorities.

Schindler tries for a moment to imagine what they could

possibly be. He can't.

SCHINDLER:

Like what?

Stern smiles despite himself. The man's manner is so simple,

so in contrast to his own and the complexities of being a

Jew in occupied Cracow in 1939. He really doesn't know. Stern

decides to end the conversation.

STERN:

Get the contracts and I'm sure you'll

do very well. In fact the worse things

get the better you'll do. It was a

"pleasure."

SCHINDLER:

The contracts? That's the easy part.

Finding the money to buy the company,

that's hard.

He laughs loudly, uproariously. But then, just as abruptly

as the laugh erupted, he's dead serious, all kidding aside --

SCHINDLER:

You know anybody?

Stern stares at him curiously, sitting there taking another

sip of his cognac, placid as a large dog.

SCHINDLER:

Jews, yeah. Investors.

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